Christmas Eve.
I should already be in the main hall with Father and Mother. The final party the palace had planned was the biggest and grandest of them all. An exchange of presents had been arranged, delicious food and drinks were going to be served, and there’d be nothing but feelings of joy and merriment filling the air.
And yet I was nervous. Worse than nervous, I kind of felt sick. But in a good way, if that made any sense at all. I’d pretty much paced a hole into the floor of my suite’s living room, grooving out a little dent with the friction of my feet alone. The butterflies in my stomach were flying around like crazy, threatening to burst right out of me. I couldn’t stop shivering even though my room was perfectly warm, lit by the calm fire flickering about the stone mantel a couple feet away from the coffee table. These were good shivers, though. Electric ones, the kind that told me something fantastic was going to happen. I could barely stand the anticipation. I so badly wanted the second hand on the clock to speed up, wanted it to skip around the clock’s surface and fast forward me to midnight.
I held the final letter from my knight in my hands, reading it over and over again like some sort of prayer to be memorized. I will see you under the mistletoe tonight.
Lying on the coffee table, I’d sorted every single one of his letters out over the tempered glass, arranging them in the order they’d arrived. I always found a new letter waiting for me every evening before I went to bed, red envelope sitting elegantly on my pillow. I had to wonder if the knight hired one of the maids to deliver these messages to me. Maybe he was one of the hundreds of house attendants the palace kept in its employ. As far as theories went, it was the best one I had to explain how well he seemed to know the palace’s layout, as well as have access to my room to deliver his letters.
I wracked my brain trying to figure out who it was. Which one of the palace’s employees could be my mystery man? Which one of them secretly knew how to dance? Which one of them had a striking jawline and dazzling smile? Why had I never noticed them before?
I took a seat next to the coffee table and let out a shaky breath, reading every single message again in an attempt to keep my mind from spiraling into a million more questions.
I look forward to kissing your lips again. Thirteen days.
Your smile is sweeter than sunshine. I hope to see it again in Twelve days.
If you could run away to any place in the world, where would that be? Can I tag along? Eleven more days.
The only thing prettier than roses is you. Count backward from ten.
The moon tonight is beautiful. Look at it and think of me. Only nine more days.
I can’t get the thought of your lips out of my head. Do you drive all men this insane? Eight days, Princess Marina.
Do you think about me as much as I think about you? Seven days left!
I have half a mind to come see you before the countdown’s over. I can’t take another six days.
Has anyone ever told you how gracefully you move when you dance? Maybe you can teach me a thing or two. Five days remaining.
Your eyes remind me of stars, but that isn’t quite right. They’re even brighter, more brilliant. Four days until we meet again.
Has anyone ever told you how gorgeous you are? I’ll tell you in person in three days.
I’d heard your clothing drive for the deserving has been a huge success. If nobody’s told you already, you really are the epitome of a generous soul. Two days left!
I hope you have sweet dreams, Princess. I also hope they’re of me. One day stands between us.
I glanced down at the final letter in my hand. My heart squealed so loudly with glee that it had the rest of my insides dancing about with excitement. I never thought the day would come. I was finally going to see my white knight again. And this time, I was going to make sure his true identity didn’t escape me. I desperately needed to know the man beneath the costume. I wanted to study every inch of his face, run my hands over his hard muscles, and commit his chiseled form to memory. Never in my life had I been more nervous. I didn’t exactly know where my white knight intended to meet me, but I was sure that if I wandered about the party area, he’d find me without fail.
This party was smaller than the annual Midnight Magic Ball, but it was just as glamorous an affair. There were even more presents beneath the thirty-foot pine tree, practically swallowing up the majority of space beneath it. Everything was elegantly gift-wrapped in shimmering wrapping paper and decorated with soft silk bows of various colors. The whole hall smelled of cinnamon and peppermint, as well as the sweet wood burning in the massive fireplace. There were tall and strong iron bars before the fire to avoid having any of the little ones—some of the children of the house attendants—from accidentally harming themselves.
It was nice to see everyone here with their family members. I spent the greater part of my day concerned with my own thoughts that I sometimes forgot that everybody who worked for my family had their own lives after hours. They had wives and husbands and children that they cared for, loved with all their hearts. I loved the holiday season so much because it brought everybody together. In this room, royalty rubbed elbows with the commoners without worry of reputation or formalities. It was a time to get together, to share joy with our neighbors.
And rub elbows I did.
I greeted everybody eagerly, trying to determine if my knight was already here. Could he be one of the gardeners that I was shaking hands with? No, their hands were rougher than my secret admirer. The knight’s hands were big and strong, supportive but not harsh. Could it be one of the royal guards by the display of gingerbread houses along the windowsills? It would explain the knight’s knowledge of the palace, and it would also explain how he’d managed to sneak me letters without getting caught. I studied their faces but was left disappointed. My knight had a strong, distinct jawline and mesmerizing lips. I thought for sure that I’d recognize him by the shape of his mouth alone. None of these men seemed to match.
Slightly discouraged that I hadn’t found him yet, I eventually made my way over to Mother and Father, who were seated next to the tree handing out gifts to the little ones. The wide smiles they wore and the giddy laughter they gave warmed my heart. I really did feel blessed around this time of year. Nothing made me happier than to see others carefree and merry. The looks on everyone’s faces when they opened their gifts filled me with pure delight.
Brandon was sitting next to a couple of the other kitchen staff, sipping from a cup of eggnog. He was still dressed in his chef’s uniform, the sleeves of his jacket rolled up to his elbows. If I had to venture a guess, Brandon had probably been working overtime to prepare the party’s elaborate desserts. I liked that about him. He was always so hardworking, so dependable. Things had been kind of awkward ever since the cocktail party. I reacted poorly to him telling Rodrigo to get lost and was sour for the rest of the evening. We hadn’t spoken much since then, mainly because we were both too busy, and I was worried about how awkward things were. But this was Christmas Eve. I wanted the past to be in the past, welcome in the new year with nothing but goodwill and friendship.
“Hey,” I said, sidling up to him.
“Hey,” he said casually, though he straightened his back a little in my presence.
“I’m sorry about the other night. I wanted to apologize sooner.”
Brandon smiled and shook his head. “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have said what I said. I was out of line.”
I smiled back at him. Just like that, the uneasy air surrounding us dissipated. Out of the corner of my eye, I happened to see a tiny box hidden in the palm of Brandon’s hand.
“What do you have there?” I asked.
“Nothing,” he said way too quickly.
I cocked an eyebrow at him. “Nothing?”
He sighed in defeat, knowing full-well I could order him to show me. He opened his palm and revealed the little box someone had gifted to him. It was ornate—much too fancy for a staff Christmas present from Father. The lit
tle box was made of dark blue velvet, a line of crystals down the center of its lid. Brandon opened it and revealed a pair of diamond-encrusted cufflinks in the shapes of tiny éclairs. It wasn’t Brandon’s style at all, but he still grinned foolishly at the little things, appreciative of the thought that went into the gift.
“It’s from Oliver, isn’t it?” I guessed.
Brandon cleared his throat. “Um, yeah. He saw a picture of us entering the holiday cocktail party online. He said they’d go nice with my suit.”
I leaned into Brandon, winking an eye at him. “You two are really cute.”
“I feel kind of bad. I didn’t get him anything.”
Shrugging my shoulders, I suggested, “Bring him a box of chocolate éclairs tomorrow.”
“You think that’s a good idea?”
“Trust me. I think Oliver would love it.”
“Maybe,” he mumbled, sheepishly casting his eyes to the floor. “Maybe I will.”
I exhaled slowly, staring at the dancing flames of the orange fire. Its heat radiated out, warmed my cheeks and the tip of my nose. It was honestly hard to stay awake with how perfectly at peace I felt here. I willed my mind to stay sharp, to keep a lookout for my knight when he finally arrived. But it was getting later and later, the soft mumble of people’s talking pulling me closer and closer toward sleep. I kept an eye on the mistletoe that was hanging from the doorway that led into the hall, but I’d failed to find anyone resembling even a fraction of my mystery man.
I tried not to let the creeping disappointment dampen my mood, but it was tough. I’d been looking forward to seeing him again for two weeks. A quick glance at the elegant grandfather clock next to the tree told me it was five minutes past midnight.
My knight was late.
I shook my head free of the thought. Maybe he was waiting until there were fewer people at the party. Maybe he’d gotten lost somewhere in the dim halls of the palace? Perhaps I was the one who was supposed to go out searching for him.
But as the night dragged on, doubt started to creep in. One by one, people left. Those with children were the first to go home, ready to welcome Santa Clause with a plate of delicious cookies and a refreshing glass of milk. Slowly but surely, the party began to die down, leaving fewer and fewer people to witness my possible kiss under the mistletoe. Father and Mother called it a night. Brandon eventually turned in for the evening as well, wishing me a good night and Merry Christmas before he went.
I sat on a comfortable armchair next to the fire and warmed my feet in front of the flames. The crackling and hiss of burning wood was the only sound that filled my ears as the party officially came to an end. I was all alone in the big banquet hall, waiting for a man who might not show. The thought crossed my mind again and again. Was I being foolish and naïve? Maybe this was all some incredibly elaborate prank. I wasn’t sure what the reasoning behind it was, or why I was even the target if that were the case.
The chimes of the grandfather clock rang, a single deep tone resonating through the air. It was now one in the morning. My knight was an hour late. Maybe he wasn’t coming at all.
I wondered if I should just return to my room. I was getting tired, and I didn’t want to feel like even more of an idiot by waiting yet another hour for someone that wasn’t guaranteed to show. A bite of anger had my stomach churning. Here I was, sitting up well past reasonable hours when he was probably at home, tucked in and comfortable, having completely forgotten about me. I hated to admit it, but I was a little heartbroken. The hope that had been building in my chest in anticipation of our reunion made me feel incredibly stupid. I thought that we had a connection, something special and inexplicable.
But it wasn’t anything real, I realized. It was just a dance. It was just a kiss. That spark I thought was there must have been in my imagination. This was all some cruel joke. And to make matters worse, I let myself believe there was someone out there for me. I wanted to be swept off of my feet so badly that I lost myself in the thrill. This wasn’t how I expected to spend the early hours of Christmas morning. But deep down, I only had myself to blame. High hopes could be a dangerous thing.
I slumped in my seat, tilting my head back against the headrest as my eyes fluttered closed as a heavy sigh escaped my lungs.
Just as quickly as I’d drifted off, I came awake with a bit of a start at the sensation of someone’s warm hand covering mine. My eyes flew open, my vision taking a couple of seconds to adjust to the dim lighting. The moon was big and silver in the night sky, its glowing light streaming in through the hall’s massive windows to paint the interior a soft shade of white. Next to me, someone was crouched at my side, looking up at me with big blue eyes.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” he said, a gentle smile upon his lips. “I had quite the adventure trying to get to you.”
I blinked. And then I blinked again, both confused and dazed.
“Rodrigo?” I whispered in disbelief.
CHAPTER NINE
Rodrigo
I arrived a little after ten, all dressed up in the delivery boy uniform Oliver whipped up for me earlier that day. It was an easy enough task to pull up references off the Internet, though I was going to owe Oliver my company to at least two fashion shows as repayment. I personally didn’t see the appeal of sitting in a crowded, noisy room to watch gazelle-like models speed past me in clothes I’d never in a million years wear. But I knew I owed Oliver big time for all the help he’d been these last two weeks. I couldn’t ask for a better friend.
Confidently, I walked up toward the doors where a big, burly royal guard frowned down his nose at me. He tossed his chin toward the box in my arms.
“What is it?”
“Ingredients for Chef Bonette,” I said as calmly as I could.
“Food deliveries don’t come this late,” he huffed, shifting in his spot a little. I was genuinely worried that he’d demand I open the box and find out that I was lying. There was nothing inside except air.
I thought quickly. “Special order. Apparently the Chef was running low on maraschino cherries.”
The guard squinted at me. “Why have I never seen you before?”
I swallowed at the dry lump that had lodged itself in my throat and prayed to God I wasn’t about to give myself away. “I’m new. Started yesterday, actually.”
“Where’s your ID?”
The tiny voice in the back of my brain wanted my lips to say, Shit, shit, shit. Luckily, I was easily able to override the panic and reach slowly into the pocket of my pants, pulling out the tiny laminated badge I had Oliver print out for me. There were all sorts of wonderous, borderline scary crafting machines in his studio. A badge maker and laminator just happened to be two of them. I didn’t think it was going to be necessary to show off any fake ID, but it always paid to be prepared.
The guard took the badge in his gorilla-sized hand and looked between me and the picture Oliver had printed. It took him a good ten seconds or so before he was finally satisfied. I held my breath the entire time, heart threatening to explode in my chest. There was no telling what would happen to me if I got caught. If anyone here knew who I really was, I’d be in some serious trouble. It wasn’t like I could come up with a good excuse, either. People were going to assume I was trying to sneak in to do the Royal Family harm. I was a Sabatino, after all. Nobody would believe me if I said I just wanted to see Princess Marina. One mention of her name and they’d probably think I was there to assassinate her or something just as awful.
“Fine,” the guard grunted, tossing me the badge. He extended his hands. “Give it here.”
“I can drop it off for you,” I insisted.
He shook his head. “No. That’s not how we do things, newbie. Only palace employees are allowed inside.”
I mentally kicked myself. This wasn’t how I imagined things going at all. I thought I could gain access through the servant’s doors, find a vacant room to change in, and then sneak down the halls to see Marina. But now this big oaf had thrown
a very heavy, very destructive wrench into my plans. I needed to come up with something quick, or else I’d miss Marina entirely.
“Okay,” I said, relinquishing ownership of the parcel.
The guard turned and entered through the servant’s entrance. The door slammed hard behind him, the sound echoing in my mind.
“That could have gone better,” I mumbled to myself.
There was no one in sight, so I took the opportunity to walk around the corner. There was a line of tall, neatly trimmed bushes directly next to a smaller, more discreet door. If my memory served correctly, it led directly into the kitchen. It was an emergency exit, designed to open out only. Maybe if I was lucky, I’d be able to sneak in while one of the kitchen staff snuck out for a smoke break. Marina and I used to hide in this exact spot behind the bushes when we were children, meowing like cats to confuse staffers into believing a stray had wandered onto palace grounds.
I remained crouched, leaning my back against the cold stone wall while sharp branches pricked me in the face. This was a lot easier when I was a boy. Now I just felt ridiculous, all curled up and hunched over. If I didn’t care about Marina and keeping my promise to meet her, I would have called it quits. But the thought of her waiting all by herself was all the motivation I needed to fight the cramp that was burning in my left thigh. My knees popped every time I shifted in position, and I shivered against the dropping temperatures. The sun was a thin line of orange over the horizon, the dark night sky blanketing me with a chill that left my joints stiff, and my muscles freezing.
Inside, I could hear the roar of laughter and lively conversation. Beautiful music drifted out of a cracked window somewhere nearby. Somewhere in that crowd, Marina was waiting for me. Everything had been leading up to this moment. I couldn’t give up now, no matter how cold and sore I was. At some point, someone had to come out through this door. Every other entrance was heavily guarded, and there was no doubt in my mind that the guard who took the parcel realized it had all been a hoax. The palace’s security team would probably be on high alert, now looking for some man dressed up as a delivery boy.
Royal Holiday Page 7
